Signifying Nothing
by Kyllikki
Summary: Some calls are a little too close. (Post-ep for "Phantom")


Signifying Nothing

by Kyllikki (kyllikki8@hotmail.com)

Rating:   R for language we'd hear if L&O were on HBO.

Spoilers:   Post-ep for "Phantom"; massive spoilage for that episode herein.   The official NBC summary says:

"When a recently paroled bank robber is slain, Detectives Goren and Eames check out the victim's sister, a social-climbing wannabe with a romantic connection to a man who is living a double life as a bogus United Nations economist. But as the cops close in, Goren learns of the man's desperate need to gain the approval of his children -- and he races to prevent even more murders."

Disclaimer:  Blah blah blah not mine blah blah.

Summary:   Bobby's thoughts aren't tumbling over each other going a mile a minute, and she has no clue what to do with that.

**************************

She places a steadying hand on his shoulder as he folds his big frame into the passenger seat of her car.  He looks up at her expectantly, and she hands him the seat belt buckle as if he were a child.  He graces her with a crooked half-smile that doesn't go anywhere near his eyes.   She turns to walk around to the driver's side, but he stills her by gently tugging on her arm. 

"Thank you," he says simply.

She covers his hand with her free one and gazes back at him for a long moment.   "No problem," she answers, surprised to find her voice thick with unshed tears.

*

_ "We're sorry, but the Cingular Wireless customer you are attempting to reach is unavailable at the moment.  Please try your call again later," the mechanical female voice cooed._

_ Growling, Alex punched the "end" button.  Of all the goddamn times for Bobby to turn his phone off, he had to choose this one.  Fuck._

_ For the briefest of moments, she considered not bothering with the phone call -- but this information was too important to wait until she got there.   So instead, she dialed dispatch.   She had a difficult time convincing the operator to patch her through to Newark PD, but after talking to three or four Newark officers and spending nearly five minutes on hold, she finally got what she needed._

_ "This is Captain McManus," came the voice on the other end._

_ "My name is Detective Alex Eames, NYPD Major Case Squad," she said.   "I think my partner's there someplace, but he seems to have his phone off.  I've got some information on your perp."_

_ "Whaddaya got?"_

_ "I'm on my way out there from the guy's house," she explained quickly.   "His wife gave us permission to search the place, and the Browning 12-gauge registered to him is missing, along with two rounds of ammo.   We're assuming the gun's with him."_

_ She heard McManus curse under his breath and then relay the information to someone nearby.  _

_ "Thank you, Detective," he said into the phone.   "I just wish you'd have gotten through a little sooner -- we just sent someone in."_

_ "SWAT?" she asked._

_ "Not SWAT.  NYPD guy.   He was already familiar with the case and thought he could get inside the perp's head and twist it around a bit better than our negotiators.   We were getting nowhere with telephone negotiations, so..."_

_ Already familiar with....?_

_ His cell phone was off.  _

_ Fuck.  FUCK._

_ She yanked the car out into the left lane and stomped on the gas._

*

They ride in silence.  She's not quite sure how to deal with this new wrinkle; car trips with Bobby are usually filled with his constant monologue about any and all things obscure.   She has come to realize that silence is not a natural state for him; because of this, she knows he doesn't mind when she doesn't pay attention.   The cadence of his voice usually fills the car, as steady and comforting as the thrum of the engine.  But now...she glances over at him staring blankly out the window.   Now she has a gut feeling that the monologue hasn't simply been internalized -- it has ceased altogether.   For the first time since she's known him, Bobby's thoughts aren't tumbling over each other going a mile a minute.   And she has no clue what to do with that.     
  
It isn't until they enter the dim netherworld of the Holland tunnel that he half turns to her and speaks hesitantly.   "Eames ... I had to go in.  If I didn't, he was going to kill those kids.   The SWAT guys weren't going to be able to stop it."   He turns back to stare out the window.   "He was gonna kill them," he repeats almost under his breath.

She laughs, disbelieving.  "Bobby, if you're looking for absolution, you need to go to confession.   I'm good, but I'm not that good," she says.   She keeps her eyes fixed on the taillights in front of her, refusing to meet his inquiring gaze.   

He reaches over and touches her arm again.

"What is it?" he asks quietly.

"Bobby, you played fast and loose with the regulations and it paid off.   This time.  But it's just, just ... *hubris* to think that everything's always gonna be okay and to hell with what the rule book says."

"I don't need a lecture from you, Alex," he says tightly, pulling his hand back.  

"No, you need a swift kick in the ass.  Going in without a vest, for God's sake?  What were you thinking?"

"There was no telling what the guy was going to do.   Seeing a vest on me might have convinced him to shoot the two people in the room who weren't wearing one."

"Can you hear yourself?  'There was no telling what the guy was going to do.'"

"I had the situation under control," he says, but he doesn't sound convinced.

She sighs again and blinks against the light as they emerge from the tunnel.

*

_ Peeling into the parking lot of the Paris Park Suites Hotel, it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out she'd found the right place.   A smorgasboard of police vehicles sat every which way in the parking lot and there were enough bulletproof vests to make the place look like a trade show.  SWAT had obviously been on the scene for a while; she could see the team members positioned just outside room twelve, hunkered down in "protect" mode.   _

_ Good.  That meant there was still something to protect._

_ She leaped out of the car and jogged over to what looked to be the command center.  _

_ "Are you McManus?" she asked, flashing her badge.   He nodded.  "Alex Eames.   Now would you mind telling me what the hell got into your head to send my partner into that hotel room?"_

_ "Look, we'd already been on the phone with this guy for two and a half hours," McManus snapped.  "The perp was getting jumpy that the pills were gonna wear off and started ranting about how he had to kill them right away.  Then he hung up the phone and wouldn't answer again.   Your guy made a case for the only way being to get inside and deal with this guy face-to-face.  In the absence of any other options, I made a judgment call."_

_ "And violated at least half a dozen regulations while you were at it."_

_ "Look, *Detective*," McManus said, leaning on the rank, "the lives of two children are more important than the rule book."_

_ "And what about the life of a cop?"  _

_ McManus was silent._

_ "At least tell me you sent him in there in a vest," she said._

_ "We tried to talk him into it -- he refused.   Said it would push the perp over the--"_

_ "CLEAR!" Goren's voice bellowed from inside the room._

_ Alex's heart shot up into her throat and she whirled in time to see the SWAT team barrelling into the room, guns drawn.   She rushed over to follow them in, as close on their heels as prudence allowed.  _

_ He was holding the gun in one hand and was squeezing the bridge of his nose with the other when she walked in.  She gave him a searching look, trying to ascertain whether he was really all right.  He was breathing heavily.   _

_ He returned her intense gaze -- yes, I'm really all right__ -- then swung the gun up vertically and pumped the barrel, ejecting two shells.   He kept pumping and pumping, and her heart ached for him as he realized  what two shells in the gun meant. _

_ "Only two shells," he told her.  His voice was still shaky.  "One for each child.  He was planning to ... walk away."_

_ Suddenly, she was filled with immeasurable anger that this sick fuck could shake her partner's confidence.  "Charlotte Fielding's lucky," she spat with vehemence that surprised her.   "She'll never know what a worm her white knight turned out to be."_

_ She turned on her heel and left the room -- she had to get Bobby out of there.   _

*

She feels rather than hears his presence behind her.   "Four hours.  That must have been quite a tirade," she says without turning around.

She hears a small snort of laughter.  "Let's just say that Captain Deakins wanted to make sure I was clear on just how many regulations I violated today," Goren says.   He pauses a moment, then adds quietly, "Alex, you didn't have to wait for me."

She turns to face him.  "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to rush headlong into any other hostage situations today," she says lightly.  "I'd hate to have to break in a new partner."  An apology, of sorts.   

"I guess I'll have to cancel my plans for the evening, then."   He smiles.  "Still, I appreciate the gesture."

Rising, she stretches out the kinks accumulated during her four hour vigil, and then reaches for her jacket, only to find Goren holding it for her to put on.   "Thanks," she says, turning to leave.   

_ You could have lost him today , a voice in her head reminds her.  She stops and calls back to him, "Bobby ... you wanna go get a drink or something?"_

She's caught him off-guard -- he barely manages to keep himself from doing a double-take -- and she delights in this.

"I don't... I don't really feel up to dealing with a bar tonight," he says.   "I'll take a raincheck, though."   

"A raincheck," she echoes, giving him a half-smile.   "Good night."  She heads toward the elevators. 

"Alex..." he calls after her.  

"Yeah?"  

"There's ... there's this little hole-in-the wall cafe up in the Village that has great tiramisu.  We could ..."   He hesitates.  "It's pretty quiet there this time of night."  

The smile reaches her eyes this time.  "You're driving."

** -end-**

Author's note: The time frame of the hostage situation in this episode is a little hinky; although the light is clearly that of late morning and Gerry's watch reads 11:35, Gerry and the kids have had "a busy day" and his wife claims to have dinner waiting for them.  I chose to split the difference and put the action in mid- to late-afternoon.

Thanks to jael for desuckification beta and for arguing on behalf of the Inner Fourteen Year-Old.


End file.
